


Peaches & Cream

by sleepylotus



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, I am such trash for the outlaw and the lady trope, TAP TAP TAP that’s the sound of me executing Canon with two in the chest and one in the head, sorry sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-04 04:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14584977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: After spinning such a good story for the FBI Beth thinks she deserves a little congratulations. As it turns out Rio is all too happy to oblige her...This is that first fic you write for a new ship out of pure unbridled frustration, so I'm sorry but it's just 100% smut.*~COMPLETE~*





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have like 5300 unfinished fics, but I just couldn't help myself...
> 
> Omg that finale tho! What the fuck! what the actual fuck!??! All I wanted was one measly kiss, I mean, I know this is only network TV! But THAT’s what they gave us?! Bless you all who are writing Beth/Rio fic, I was so relieved to see I wasn’t the only one who NEEDED this pairing! LOL. 
> 
> Anyway, I just wanted a kiss, but you’re getting straight smut here, so…hope you like it. XD

# I.

 

In the daytime when buttery sunlight streamed through her kitchen window and she watched her children eating breakfast with coffee in hand, Beth told herself she broke the law for _them_ . For their future. Because she couldn’t count on her moron husband to provide for them anymore.

But now the windows were dark, she was alone in the house, and she was drinking bourbon. At night, when the bad things came out to play, she could admit to herself that she had other motives for wanting to keep working with Rio.

Motives that had nothing to do with making shit-tons of illegal money, and everything to do with the way she felt bare and yet somehow overdressed when he turned those molten dark eyes upon her.

This was the first time she’d really been tested under fire. The FBI agent had given her quite a scare, but in the end she rose to the occasion, as she’d risen to every occasion life threw at her. She’d spun one hell of a tale, and she hoped Rio would be proud.

Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but she thought that he should be gracious enough to _tell_ her that she’d done good. She pulled out the burner phone he’d given her last week and texted him, her fingers a little shaky on the keys.

_I did it._

She could be enigmatic too.

Beth could just hear him in her head. _Did what, Red?_ He would fix those smoldering dark eyes on her and she would feel herself melting inside her panties.

This was _insane._

She poured herself another drink.

Almost exactly at the stroke of midnight a voice asked from across her kitchen, “What’d you do, Elizabeth?”

She started, almost spilling her drink. She’d dozed sitting at the table.

He used her full name, which was worse somehow. _Elizabeth._ The way it rolled off his tongue makes her perfectly respectable and oh so Caucasian moniker to sound almost exotic—and a little bit naughty.

Sometimes he seems amused when he pops in on her like this, but tonight his expression is stony, giving her nothing. That’s the look she gets when he’s convinced she’s done something stupid. Somehow, even though he didn’t say it in as many words, that made her angry. That he would expect her to bungle it, when in fact she had given the performance of a lifetime. She stood from her seat, deciding she didn’t want to face him sitting down.

Crossing her arms defensively, she retorted, “You know, most people knock.”

He remained silent, continuing to give her that laser stare, his chin jutting in that way that made her equally want to slap him and kiss him. She wondered if anyone had ever actually melted into the floor under it before.

She was giving it some thought.

“The FBI guy,” she finally elaborated. “I took your advice.”

There was a spark in his dark eyes, and in an instant the room changed. Energy seemed to crackle between them like a gathering storm as he took a step closer. “Which?” he asked, his hands buried in his hoodie. “That I was hittin’ it? Or that we was _makin’ love_?”

The heat that flushed Beth’s face could have fueled a wildfire, and the corner of his mouth turned up in that signature smirk that she somehow both hated and loved. But she was determined not to back down, and so she held his gaze as he took another step closer.

“I told him the truth, to start…” she recalled.

“I hope not.”

She can tell now that he doesn’t believe she ratted on him, and that he’s heartily amused—and intrigued. Slowly, as though handling a skittish animal, he lifted his hand to caress the line of her cheek. She isn’t exactly proud of it, but her eyes slip closed anyway. Maybe she’s showing her hand too soon, but then who is she trying to fool?

Rio knows.

Rio knows everything with just a look. He’s good at reading people—he _has_ to be, to do what he does, and not get a knife in the back. She supposes it has its other uses too. He’d never really acted on this _thing_ between them before…but maybe the lonely stroke of midnight had an effect on him too.

When was the last time Dean touched her like that? Tenderly, like they had all the time in the world…Dean’s attentions the past few years were more something she just had to _endure_ rather than something to enjoy. He was always in such a fucking rush, and seemed to forget there were two of them in his haste to get off so that he could roll over and go to sleep.

Beth hardly recognized her voice when it finally came, somehow distant and yet perfectly clear. “I told him that I found out my husband was cheating on me with his woman-child secretary.”

Rio’s hand paused at her hairline. She supposed he didn’t know any of this, but she didn’t think he would give a shit either way. Wasn’t that part of ganster life? Having a side piece or two or three?

“Car Man is a _dumb_ motherfucker,” Rio stated, his voice flat in the way he would pronounce grave statements, like when he made threats to people’s lives.

She agreed, and though she didn’t have the courage to open her eyes, this emboldened Beth to go on. “I said that I took my kids to school, and I went to a bar. You were there, and you came home with me.”

Those long fingers slipped into her hair, grazing the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she couldn’t suppress a shudder. _Christ_ he knew how to hit her buttons—who knew that a gangbanger could be _gentle_? But Rio was so much more than that. She’d caught on to that the day he showed mercy when he and his thugs had been about to ransack her house and leave the three of them dead. That fateful day seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

His voice became deeper, a low rumble she felt under her skin as much as heard with her ears. “Now I like where this is going.”

Beth opened her eyes then, brilliant blue orbs meeting deepest black. “I said that you kissed me in the kitchen.” She threw it out there like a dare, _knowing_ Rio wasn’t a man to back down from a challenge. She knew he saw the triumph in her eyes when he leaned down _slowly_ , giving her every chance to bail out if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to. She’d wanted this since…when? She didn’t know when the line blurred, and Rio stopped being her enemy, and started being… _the object of her desire_. He still scared the shit out of her, she wasn’t _stupid._ But as dangerous as he was, she knew now that he didn’t do violence without a reason. He wasn’t the rabid dog the 5 o’clock news would have you believe of people like him. He was quantifiable—at least, as much as anything in this line of work can be.

She’d been a _very_ good girl. Tonight, at least, she was safe.

When his lips finally touched hers she felt as though her world turned upside down, like all the oxygen was sucked from her chest and replaced with pure _exhilaration_. All the tension since the very beginning seemed to build and release in that one lock of lips. He kissed her like there was no tomorrow, those strong fingers fisting in her fiery red hair pulling _just enough_ to make her heart skitter around in her chest. There was a low, primal moan, and she realized it came from _her._

“Then what?” he rasped against her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth.

“We…” His tongued traced the shell of her ear. “Oh God.”

Rio chuckled, a low sound from deep in his chest. “Did we go upstairs?”

She really was depraved.

“No…”

He looked around with that smirk, his black eyes glittering with delight. He was enjoying this game _too much._

“The living room?”

“ _No_.”

Again he laughed, and his arms were like iron bands around her waist, holding her close. He was wiry but _so strong,_ and she didn’t want him to let go.

“Tell me, mamma, don’t leave me hangin’. You want it on the floor?”

His words infused her with a rush of heat, and the way he said it somehow made it all the more tangible for Beth—this wasn’t a dream. Maybe it was a game, but it was _real,_ and it was happening _now_.

She didn’t know how she found her own voice, but she’d discovered that about herself. When it seemed impossible to say the right thing, somehow she found the pluck to speak up.

“The kitchen table.”

Rio made a sound halfway between a groan and a growl—it was ridiculously hot, and her limbs turned to melted putty as he pulled her the short distance across the kitchen, and deposited her as though she and all her post-baby pounds weighed _nothing_ upon the table top. He kissed her again, his mouth demanding and insistent and she was all too happy to meet him head on, her tongue making war with his. He pushed her down to her elbows upon the table, and it was pure instinct to wrap her legs around his hips, pulling him close. That wasn’t just his belt buckle that was pressing hard against her center, she thought dizzily. He wanted her too, maybe just as much as she did him.

That was gratifying, at least.

Maybe Dean lost interest years ago, but at least _someone_ wanted her.

Rio held himself up on his arms, dragging his teeth over her plump lower lip as he withdrew. “FBI dude liked your story?”

It took her several long beats to gather her wits enough to answer. She blinked, clearing the stars from her eyes. “He bought it.”

Rio looked her up and down with a gaze that scorched. She imagined she made quite a picture—clothes disheveled, skirt up around her waist, mouth swollen from his kisses. And of course, there was her too-curvy mommy-bod… She might have felt self-conscious, had there not been so much _heat_ in the way this young man looked her over.

“Good.”

Rio began to back away, and of their own accord her legs tightened their hold upon him, a small and _embarrassing_ whine of protest escaping her. Rio pinned her with that dark stare. “Sweetheart, you _really_ think you want to fuck with a gangbanger on your kitchen table?”

As ever, there was something in his eyes, in his voice, _daring_ her to judge him by the sum total of his outward appearance. The tattoos and the hoodie and that dangerous stare. To regard him—dismiss him— _fear_ him, the way every other white woman of her class would if they met him on the street.

“That’s not how I see you now,” she found herself answering truthfully.

Rio pressed his lips, and for the merest fraction of a second she might have seen something vulnerable surface in his coal dark eyes.

“How you see me then?” he demanded, the edge in his voice balancing out the moment of weakness before.

She sat up and brazenly fingered the top button of his shirt, coaxing it free from its hole. Her fingers smoothed down, tracing the hard line of his pectoral beneath the fabric. He felt like he was carved from stone. When she looked up to him again the corners of those kiss-swollen pillow-soft lips were turned up at the corners, _just a bit._ “You’re the _King_ ,” she said in that silky sweet soccer-mom _kids come get some cookies_ voice, and he felt himself get twice as hard, his pants unbearably tight.

She was always coming at him with sass, always so goddamn _defiant,_ and he knew there was something fucked up in him that secretly loved it because no one else had _ever_ dared, but to hear her _say_ it like that…it sounded like surrender.

_Damn._

He leaned down again, the weight of his body pressing her down into the table inch by inch. “You playin’ with fire, Red.”

Of all the things she had done lately, somehow that _this_ was the thing he thought she would really blanche at?

He did not expect her to _laugh,_ and he did not expect that wide unguarded smile. _Fuck_ she was beautiful. She was so _other—_ the purest thing he’d ever touched, and all he wanted was to lose himself inside her for a night or five. Her hand snaked behind his head, her nails digging lightly into the nape of his neck. It sent a galloping thrill down his spine. “Then burn me,” she dared, and he knew he was a goner. The force of his mouth on hers would have made her head crack on the table had he not been there, his hand in her hair, _holding_ her.

He kissed her lips and her neck, and what he could reach of her chest before the buttons of her dress got in the way. He sucked at her skin and she took a savage glee in knowing there would be marks later, a guilty confession written across her milk-pale flesh. She would have to wear a turtleneck for weeks.

Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she didn’t care anymore. Maybe letting Dean see would be the most fun she’d had in years. After… _this_ , of course.

Clumsy fingers fumbled down the trim line of his torso, finding the zipper of his hoodie and drawing it down. Greedily her hands slipped underneath his shirt, savoring smooth skin and taut waist, the muscles of his lower back—she gasped and recoiled as her fingers brushed something hard and cold tucked into the back of his pants.

_Gun._

“It’s cool, baby,” he soothed her, plucking the gold plated firearm from his waistband and resting it on the far edge table, the barrel pointing away. It made a rather menacing _thunk,_ and she eyed it like a snake poised to strike. He turned her attention back to him with a finger under her chin. “It’s just a machine, yeah? It won’t hurt you unless you pull the trigger.”

He held her gaze for a long time, and she realized they were speaking in metaphors again. He, like the gun, would not go off without a cause. She found herself relaxing again, sliding her hands up the curve of his spine once more.

How crazy was she for trusting this man?

Maybe not so much. He’d proven loyal to her in his way. More loyal than Dean as of late, truth be told.

As Rio’s mouth returned to her neck she began to unbutton his shirt, revealing inch after inch of smooth brown skin decorated with a myriad of black ink. Her fingers slid over a circle of puckered flesh at his side, and she realized it could only be a scar left behind from a bullet. She found two more, and realized that someone had hurt this young man _badly_ at some point in his life. The thought made something dark surface in her heart, a flash of anger that someone had damaged this man she had come to think of in some strange way as her own.

Some of her buttons Rio unfastened—but some of them he _snapped_ in his eagerness to have her undone _,_ all the way down to her waist. Again he looked down at her like something he might like to devour, shaking his head to himself. “Mamma, you look like _dessert_.” He lowered his head, freeing one breast from the cup of her bra. “Like peaches and cream” His tongue circled her pink nipple and Beth felt herself _melt,_ a sigh filled with wanton longing escaping her lips. His mouth upon her breasts made her most intimate places tighten almost _painfully_ with desire, pooling with moisture. Her panties were _soaking_ wet and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on.

She reached for his belt at the same time his hand smoothed up the length of her long thigh, finding her throbbing center with the pad of his thumb. The slick moisture he found there made him a little dizzy. This chick was like some terrible Celtic goddess, all fire and fertility and he wanted her so badly it made him cross-eyed. Maybe he sucked a little too hard on her rosy nipple, but she didn’t seem to mind, a wanton moan emitting from between her lips.

He took a fierce pleasure in watching her as he touched her, her head thrown back. A ragged sigh of, “ _God, Rio,_ ” evaporating any doubt he might have had that she wasn’t thinking of him with those startlingly blue eyes squeezed closed.

When at last she managed to free him from his boxers through the mind-numbing magic he made with his fingers between her legs and his mouth on her breasts she took him in hand, marveling at the velvety soft skin that encased— _dear lord—_ several burgeoning inches of rock-hard manhood. She squeezed him, rubbing him up and down, and it was Rio’s turn to emit a raspy, “ _Fuck,”_ against her skin.

“Please?” she whined, _needing_ him inside her. Rio might have teased her a little longer, if his need hadn’t perfectly equaled her own. Hearing her beg for it did something inexplicable to his insides. Something he’d _never_ felt before. A girl like this needing a guy like him—it should have been impossible, or the punch line of a joke, but here they were.

He didn’t know how he had the presence of mind to remove her panties rather than tear them from her, and reach back for his wallet and pull out a condom. She watched him wrap it up with that plump lower lip caught between her teeth, eyes like cornflower blue fire. _That’s mine_ he thought, reclaiming her mouth as slowly he began to push inside her. He pulled back to watch her from an inch away, savoring that hooded look as he sheathed his body completely inside hers. The last inch made her close her eyes with a ragged sigh, her nails digging into his back. He took a deep breath and went still, hoping he wouldn’t lose it right there like some fourteen year old boy beating it to his first centerfold.

“Damn you are tight,” he murmured against the skin of her throat, kissing her pulse and daring to move a little. “You sure those four kids are yours?”

She laughed a little at that, which did not help him keep his cool. She could have regaled him with the grisly details of little Emma’s antics in the womb wrapping herself up in her umbilical cord and Beth’s emergency caesarian section, but she just smiled. “I _vividly_ remember bringing them into this world, believe me.”

“You a beast, Elizabeth,” said Rio, kissing his way down to one plump breast again. “You ain’t afraid of a little pain. I like that about you.”

Somehow this complement warmed Beth to her toes and simultaneously twisted her up inside. Dean had never _once_ praised her for the physical feat it had taken to give him his four beautiful healthy children. He’d just taken it for granted, the way he took _everything_ about her for granted. On a different night the thought may have made her cry _again,_ but not tonight.

Tonight, she was taking something _good_ for herself.

Slowly Rio began to move inside her, his thick cock gliding in and out of her body in a way that stole her breath away. “I feel like you’re the only man I’ve known in a long time who really _sees_ me,” she found herself confessing, shifting her hips in a way that gave him even more pressure. Rio rewarded her effort with a growl and the scrape of teeth on her shoulder.

“I see you, baby,” he told her, reaching down to press his thumb on her clit again. “When you livin’ in the jungle, you learn to recognize your own.”

_His own._

It sent a frisson of gooseflesh all down her spine.

That he thought she was made of the same stuff he was— _her,_ Beth Boland, soccer mom extraordinaire, maker of school-lunches, cutter of crusts and grand orchestrator of playdates at the park—that he _esteemed_ her so was almost enough to make her come right then and there. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him as deep inside her as she could. They both emitted a primal cry, and no more words were exchanged as Rio rocked his hips against hers methodically in rhythm with his clever hand that was intent on making her come.

She knew he was watching her as she closed her eyes, the curve of her spine tightening inch by inch as she felt the most impossible pleasure gathering to explode in the cradle of her hips. He was probably smirking, that fine mouth curled up in the corner, delighted and amused that he could wind her up this way. The pleasure built and built, maddening wonderful pressure and heat like lava between her legs, until it seemed there was no place else for it all to go. She came with a ragged scream, her body pulled tight as a bow beneath his as she shattered into a thousand pieces. The force of her orgasm, her walls clenching and pulsing around his cock took him right along with her. He cursed against her skin as his body locked against hers, his hand gripping her thigh hard enough that there would be bruises later.

She didn’t care.

She was _pure_ joy and a pile of melted bones, Rio slumping to rest all his solid weight upon her. Beth knew the dopiest smile was pulling at the corners of her lips, but she couldn’t stop herself.

It felt like hours before Rio found the strength to sit up on his elbows, looking down at her with those knowing eyes. “You looked surprised,” he said, brushing a stray strawberry lock away from her eyes. “For a split second, right before you came. I watched you.”

Beth lifted her eyebrows at that. Had she been? All she remembered was becoming a living breathing thing filled with _light_ as he pushed her over the edge of oblivion. Despite herself, she felt a hot blush erupting up her neck and blooming across her cheeks. Maybe he saw _too much._

Rio smiled a little, that insouciant curl at the corner of his mouth. “Girl, I am still _inside_ you. You really gonna blush?”

Beth sighed. “I guess it’s just…I don’t remember the last time I didn’t have to fake it,” she admitted. “Maybe I forgot what good sex is like.” She laughed then, and knew she sounded more than a _little_ crazy. “Maybe I never knew.”

This _gangbanger_ above her was a more considerate lover than the man she’d been married to for twenty years. But Rio was more than that, she knew. And Dean…was a piece of shit. She knew that now too.

Rio continued to look down at her with that piercing gaze. _What did he see now?_ she wondered. Probably a pathetic housewife with four children who didn’t have nearly enough fun making them. In the end she had to close her eyes, unable to withstand that stare that missed _nothing._ She felt him kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. “Your man is an asshole,” he finally spoke. “You are 100 percent pure fox an’ if he couldn’t hit it right then he deserves to get kicked out of his own house.”

Beth laughed at that, the joy from before returning in a flood. Rio watched her, and felt a ridiculous sense of triumph as he witnessed that light enter her eyes again. There was something _prehistoric_ in knowing he made her happy. Something older than time, something masculine and visceral and he kinda wanted to track Car Man down and break his legs for depriving this woman of that essential necessity for so fucking long.

_Fuck Car Man._

Rio was all too happy to slip into his house and take care of his lady.

She was still laughing a little, and he could feel it all the way in her loins. After banging like that he should have been spent, but inexplicably he felt himself beginning to get hard again. He kissed her hungrily, his hand buried in her hair, and Beth felt it too.

“Oh my God, are you really ready again?”

Rio just laughed, a short bark of mirth that was like a deep belly laugh for him. Beth bit her lip as she looked him over, the sparkle in his dark eyes like the moon on the ocean at night catching her heart in her throat. She realized he was beautiful, in the way panthers are beautiful. Sleek and dangerous and even though they could take your hand off you still want to reach through the bars at the zoo to touch them.

Well. She hadn’t lost her hand yet.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” she asked, grazing her nails lightly up his sides. As delightful as the kitchen table was—it was a little unforgiving on the backside after a while.

Usually at this point Rio would have made himself scarce—he had a habit of not staying in one place too long. He was _always_ on the move. But he couldn’t bring himself to part from her _just_ yet.

“Yeah, Mamma. I ain’t done with you yet.”

The promise in his words sent a spike of heat through to her core, and Beth found that she was ready again too.

For a moment his own words drifted back to him. _Was I hittin’ it, or makin’ love?_ He’d never felt anything like this before in a woman’s arms, and he was afraid he knew the answer. It was bad news, and too _good_ to care.

Not yet.

And for all the darkness in his world, he was certain he would always remember the sweetness in the shriek of her laughter as he bundled her in his arms and carried her upstairs.


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Rio get to know each other better...

# II.

 

Rio set her down on her feet near the bed, but he didn’t let go. His lips found hers again as those strong hands went about divesting her of her dress. She felt the sleek poly-blend— _Kohl’s finest_ —slide down her body and she shivered. It didn’t seem fair that she was the only one naked, and she set about returning the favor, pushing his shirt from his shoulders and unbuttoning his jeans again. His already burgeoning erection made it difficult to remove his boxers, the waistband almost unable to stretch far enough. It made Beth smile a secret little curl of lips.

It was a problem Dean never had.

Rio nudged her until the backs of her knees hit the bed. She was happy to sit down—her legs were feeling rather weak, as it was. He looked down at her with that scorching hot gaze, eyes feasting on every part of her bare to his view. Again, she might have felt self-conscious if there had not been so much _heat_ in his dark eyes. He liked what he saw, and the corner of his mouth turned up in that infuriating half smile. “ _Damn_ you are white.”

Beth might have been indignant, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that made her hand fly to her mouth to cover her laughter. “Well…yes, I suppose I am.” Her eyes raked over his own form, taut caramel skin adorned with quite the _oeuvre_ of black ink. “We can’t all be so blessed.”

Smile never wavering, Rio crawled over her, catching her mouth in a sultry lock of lips. “You beautiful, though.” He’d never seen anything like her up close. Girls— _women_ —like her weren’t meant for thugs like him. Any minute now he was going to wake up … The sun would crest the horizon, the magic would be broken, and all this would seem distant as a long-coveted dream.

The thought made his gut twist, and quickly he covered his sweet slip, “I’m supposed to say nice shit like that to ladies like you, right?”

She laughed again. But she’d seen the softening of his eyes, just for a moment, hadn’t she? Or had she’d dreamed it?

“Only if you mean it,” she said, and there’s a hint of vulnerability in her words too. She’d been lied to so much by the man who was supposed to be her partner, her protector, her provider—her _mate_.

_She would not cry._

Rio seemed to see all this going on behind her big blue eyes. He’s good at reading people. He has to be to do what he does. To be the King. And with Beth…he seemed to have a little extra insight when it came to her, besides. A less cynical man might have taken that for a sign.

“I mean it,” he dared tell her, in that tone of voice that meant his word on the matter was law. It filled her with warmth and confidence and a throbbing ache between her legs that she needed him to fill.

“ _Come here_ ,” she purred, pulling him down to her with hands on his trim waist.

They didn’t say much after that.

 

## XXX

 

Usually Rio made a point not to laze around in bed, especially not beds that weren’t his own, no matter _how_ fine the lady sharing it with him may be. But there was just something about this woman, her soft pale curves settled against him and her fire red hair on the pillow—he couldn’t tear himself away. So he dozed with one eye open. He didn’t like it that his gun was still downstairs on the kitchen table—it made him antsy. However, he also didn’t want to wake _her_ , so he just lay there with this warm feeling pulsing in his chest.

_Damn._

When the room began to lighten in the first minutes of blue twilight before dawn she shifted beside him, twining her long leg with his own. Her hand slowly snaked over the ladder of his ribs, the light scrape of her fingernails making his belly twitch. Inevitably her fingers found those tell-tale round scars on his side.

“What happened here?” she asked sleepily, her lips grazing his tattooed pec.

“Exactly what it feels like, sweetheart. I got shot.”

She lifted one of those red-gold eyebrows. “A deal gone bad?” she pushed, moving to kiss the skin over his heart next. It made his stomach flip, and his cock began to stir with interest once more. Even _he_ was impressed.

“Yeah, but not my deal,” he explained sparingly. “Guy I used to work for didn’t know when to shut his fat mouth and be cool.”

Beth considered his words. Rio was always so _composed,_ even when he was angry. He knew how to put on a show to leave the impression he wanted. His quiet menace was worth a million threatening words, when he was making a point. She supposed he’d learned the merit of that the hard way.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a good threat too… She thought of his seemingly innocuous inquiries about _spaghetti sauce_ on her marble backsplash, the first day he and his boys broke into her house. He’d all too clearly meant that other sticky red substances _like blood_ might also leave their mark.

They’d come a long way from that day.

“Is that when you decided it was time to be your own boss?” she asked, kissing his torso a little lower.

“Somethin’ like that.” A small sigh escaped him as she planted another kiss even lower. His eyes were slipping closed—she could see it in the growing light of her bedroom, and it made her feel a little bit powerful.

That could be a dangerous thing, but she couldn’t quite keep herself from sitting up on elbows, inquiring brightly, ‘But how did you become… _you_ ,” she asked, settling those bright blue eyes upon him. Rio exhaled through his teeth, clearly a bit annoyed that she was still talking rather than kissing her way down his six-pack. One black angular eyebrow raised.

“You wanna hear my _sad story_ so you can pity me, sweetheart?”

Her narrowed eyes seemed to turn hard as sapphires. “I don’t pity you. I’m curious about you. It’s different.”

“Hmm.” He seemed to think on that, and a long enough silence passed that she was certain he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he said, “I had two choices where I grew up. Fight or die. You either a baitfish or you a shark where I’m from, you feel me?”

She nodded, but he could see she wasn’t really satisfied with that answer. “You think I could’a made a different choice. Taken my street smarts and gone to college or some shit.”

Beth shrugged, her tousled copper hair sliding over her bare shoulders. “Maybe.”

He narrowed his eyes, considering it. He could have lined out all the truly legitimate excuses. No money to spare in the family, check. Shitty schools in his neighborhood, check. No bank in their right mind gonna give him a student loan, check. All things he probably could have gotten around though, if he’d really wanted to. But something about sitting in a classroom and having some old fuck _tell_ him about life from a book when he’d already _lived_ it? It didn’t sit right with him—and he was already good at what he did. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like the thrill—and the _power_.

“Maybe I coulda,” he finally conceded. “But my dad ran out on us when I was a kid. My mom worked three jobs and we still didn’t have enough. Four mouths to feed. You know what that’s like. Someone had to step up and earn, and I was the oldest.”

In that moment Beth realized they had more in common than she ever knew.

“Oh.”

Her fish-out-of-water look of surprise seemed to please him, and he adjusted himself against the pillows, no longer edgy. “My sisters are smarter than me anyhow,” he divulged with that crooked smile, his expression softening around the edges. “Let them be the college grads.”

Somehow this was the thing that caused Beth to smile. He had younger sisters, and he did what he did to give them a better life. They have a _lot_ more in common than she’d known.

“Do they know how their big brother pays for their tuition?” she asked.

Rio shrugged one shoulder. “We don’t talk about it, but deep down I think they know. Like I said. They ain’t stupid.”

“Hmm.”

Beth suddenly felt motivated to investigate Rio’s torso with her lips once more, and a near inaudible sigh escaped Rio as she placed the gentlest kiss over the nastiest of the bullet scars. His long fingers slid into her hair, but he did not push her, letting her make her own pace down his ribcage and the center of his abdomen. Her hair tickled his skin, and she kissed him everywhere except where he needed her _most._

She was driving him _insane._

“Baby, you gonna _kill_ me,” he panted as she brushed past his shaft to kiss his thigh.

Beth couldn’t suppress a small giggle. “Finally the tables have turned,” she snarked, nipping at the taut skin of his leg. How had they arrived at a place where remembering Rio’s threats seemed _funny_? Maybe, just maybe, looking back, she didn’t think he really would have done it.

That was information she intended to keep to herself, and little did she know his thoughts ran along the same lines. “ _Ha ha_ ,” he fired back, and swore under his breath as she finally took him in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head of his penis. There were no more words, just animalistic sounds as she took him as far as she could into her mouth, her tongue teasing the large vein on his shaft. Beth worked him up and down with her mouth and her hand and even a _little_ bit of teeth, moaning with delight along with Rio. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever had this much _fun_ giving a blow-job, but then she couldn’t remember the last time sex with Dean didn’t feel like a _chore_.

It wasn’t long before Rio’s grip tightened in her hair, tugging lightly. “Move, sweetheart, I’m gonna come.”

Defiantly she bore down upon him, taking him to the hilt, feeling almost _possessive_ of him. _Mine, at least for tonight._ Or that morning, rather. Unable to hold back any longer, he spilled himself in her mouth with a delicious moan she savored.

The rest maybe not _so_ much, but it wasn’t that bad. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, gazing upon Rio with triumphant blue eyes. Just this once, she’d managed to conquer a little piece of this man, and it felt _sinfully_ good.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, kissing him on the mouth for just _a little_ revenge. He didn’t seem to mind in the least, fingers curling in her hair at the nape of her neck, holding her fiercely for a few blindingly wonderful moments as he kissed her back.

With a wave of sadness she realized she didn’t want this to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so maybe this is a THREE chapter fic... LOL. Thank you so much for commenting, it gives me life!! <3


	3. III.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The water bill will be exorbitant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bird named Lady Cleo gently nudged me into finishing this, so this is all her fault. :) Thank you dear!

# III.

 

Beth felt pleasantly _zen_ as she stood in the shower, letting the warm water sluice over her body. She also was a little _sore,_ but in a way that indicated she’d had a _very_ good time, and she didn’t mind. It was a long forgotten feeling, to say the least.

She tried not to think about _what now_ but it was impossible.

Somehow, she didn’t think she was going to become the king gangbanger’s girlfriend.

Did she even _want_ to?

She liked Rio. _OK, Ok,_ she admitted to that mocking little voice in her head. She liked Rio _a lot._ She more than liked him, even if maybe she didn’t _quite_ love him.

_Yet._

That was the operative word for sure, but if this went on she couldn’t say what new ravages her heart would invent for her.

Hadn’t she been through enough? She’d loved Dean, and look how that turned out. Her children were the only good thing that came of it in the end, and as much as she loved them she didn’t want any more. What she wanted was _security,_ for her and her children. She wanted a future, and purpose, and a sense of self-worth, and she was _done_ looking to a man to provide that for her.

So what if Rio gave her a chance? Had faith in her to deliver on a job. Recognized that she was smart _and_ beautiful _and_ capable… He also had to be ten years her junior, if not more. Tonight had surely been about slaking curiosity, as much for him as for her. He wouldn’t be back for more.

 _Rio’s not Dean_ that little voice went on, and Beth made a face at the _hope_ in that thought.

“Don’t kid yourself,” she grumbled aloud, trying to banish her thoughts that weren’t really helping anything and kind of killing her post-best-sex-she’d-ever-had high.

“Kid yo’self about what?” asked a deep voice from the other side of the shower door, and Beth jumped about three feet out of her skin.

“Jesus Christ!” She hadn’t heard him come in—but then Rio was very good at sneaking up on her.

Dear God. What _else_ had she said aloud to herself?

The door slid open and Rio joined her in the shower, completely at ease with himself in his own skin. Beth couldn’t stop herself from raking her eyes over his tall lithe form decorated with black ink from his neck all the way down to his ankles. His body art was fierce and beautiful, swirls and snarling animals and words in English and Spanish in script so stylized she could hardly read it. She’d never thought herself a hug fan of tattoos, especially after Annie’s little drunken _All You Need Is Love_ fiasco on her lower back—but it suited Rio perfectly.

“You thinkin’ hard, Mamma?” Rio teased with that half smile that somehow put her more at ease.

“Not really,” she lied, and sighed with relief as he pulled her into his arms under the water.

“Hmm,” he said as he looked down at her, smoothing her wet hair away from her face. It was clear that he didn’t really believe her, but he didn’t pursue the matter further. He probably didn’t want to know. “You need to _relax_ ,” he advised, and reached out for the loofa. “And not overthink this.”

Beth closed her eyes and sighed, knowing he was right. She just needed to chill the fuck out, and not expect _anything._ For once in her life, she just needed to be _cool._

An even deeper sigh pulled from her lips when Rio slid the body-wash loaded loofah and his other strong hand up her spine, slick with soap and gently smoothing out all the little kinks in her back muscles. His mouth found hers, and she felt herself melt a little as he dragged his teeth across her lower lip.

“I like you. So we’ll see where this goes, yeah?” Beth’s eyes flew open at hearing this unexpected offering, her heart suddenly lodged in her throat. Rio, however, seemed to mistake this for panic, and a shadow fell over his dark gaze. “Unless that’s not what you want. Otherwise, forget about it.”

His final words sounded so much like a slamming door that Beth _did_ panic. “No! I mean…yes! I mean… _Christ_ , I don’t know what I want, Rio. But I like you too, and I don’t want to let you go.”

For a moment his answering smile was _almost_ a grin. “Good.” His soap-slicked hands smoothed back down her back and over the curves of her hips, travelling the ladder of her ribcage. “Because I ain’t done with you by _far_ , baby girl.”

Beth sighed as his large hands found the soft mounds of her breasts, kneading gently, and he won a sharp gasp as he pinched the tips of her nipples lightly. Desire stirred between her legs, but after making love _twice_ she really didn’t think she had any more in her. She’d always resented romance novels for making it sound like women were these endless founts of orgasmic pleasure—her body just did not _work_ that way.

“Ain’t it your turn?” Rio whispered in her ear as his hand slipped between her legs, lathering her folds with clever fingers, circling her clit. It made her knees _tremble,_ and she clutched him to her with arms around his shoulders.

“I don’t think I _can_ ,” she admitted into the bend of his neck _._

His answering chuckle was more like a growl against the base of her ear, and his teeth scraped against her shoulder. “ _Try_.”

Her laughter was overtaken by a moan as he slid a finger inside her. “I remember…your policy…on _trying_ ,” she quipped, quite breathless as he massaged her slowly with those soapy fingers, lighting a slow fire between her legs again. _Damn if he might not prove her wrong._

Rio braced himself with one arm on the backsplash, pressing her into the wall with a bone-melting kiss. “I ever ask you to do somethin’ you can’t really do?”

Beth tried to think on that amidst the havoc his touch played with her cognitive abilities. He’d laid down some pretty heavy ultimatums in the short time they’d known each other—seemingly _impossible_ tasks—and at times it was _insane_ what she and the girls had gone through to complete them, but she’d always managed to pull through. That Rio implied this was a mark of his faith in her more than the imperious commands of a demanding monarch kind of fried her brain.

“That’s _different_ ,” she whined. His touch felt _so good,_ but it just wasn’t getting her there, and she knew how this would go. He would try and try until she couldn’t take any more and had to ask him to stop, and she would feel bad for his wasted effort that would have been more than enough the first round. Then next time he wouldn’t want to try hardly at all because his ego was hurt…

 _He’s not Dean,_ she hissed at herself inside her head. It wasn’t fair to psych herself out over the shitty things Dean had done over the years. It wasn’t fair to her—it wasn’t fair to Rio.

She must have been frowning, because Rio pressed a kiss to the furrow between her brows. “Nah, it ain’t,” he insisted. “Turn around.”

Equally filled with curiosity and trepidation, Beth obeyed, and sighed as she felt his lean body mold so perfectly against her curves. She could also feel the fact that his cock was rather interested in the proceedings going on in this shower, standing at full attention against the split of her buttocks.

As much as she wanted to feel him slide inside her from behind, somehow she managed to find her voice. “I’m not on birth control,” she warned him as he moved against her, gliding against the soap-slicked hollows of her body.

His voice came low and rough in the curve of her shoulder. “It’s cool, Mamma, I got you.” He did not enter her, just rocked his body in the seam of her buttocks to the rhythm of his hand between her legs, his other hand palming her breast. Lightly he pinched her nipple, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. It sent a bolt of pleasure through her body, straight to her loins, causing her nether regions to clench almost _painfully_.

 _God_ it was good, and she felt that telltale super-nova tension building between her thighs.  

“ _There,_ ” she rasped, her head thrown back against his shoulder. “ _God_ , right _there_.”

She didn’t have to see his _I-told-you-so_ smile to know it was there. She might have been _annoyed_ had it not been so _wonderful_ to go to pieces in his arms, his name on her lips as she imploded with pleasure in the cradle of her hips. She might have fallen if not for his arms like iron-bands wrapped around her. She felt him stiffen behind her, cursing and grinding his body against her tender flesh until he too stilled, leaning against the wall so that they both did not fall into a heap on the floor.

She felt him trembling, and it took a few hazy seconds for her to realize he was _laughing._ “Is it…really…that funny?” she managed to get out as she turned in his arms, pushing her wet hair out of her face before returning to the shelter of his body. Lazily his hands stroked up and down her back, winning a shiver.

He just smiled that wickedly insouciant curl of lips, and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I dunno, Red. Just maybe one of these days when I tell you somethin’, you’ll believe me.”

She made an exasperated sound in the hollow of his throat, but then she started to laugh too. It was a sound filled with all the unexpected joy of their decadent evening together, and maybe the promise of more to come. “Maybe someday,” she ceded.

When their limbs deigned to work again they washed and rinsed each other lazily under the dwindling hot water, relishing the adventure of running hands over flesh-scapes that still seemed so exciting and new.

Beth smiled a little to herself as she thought about Dean whining about _this_ month’s water bill.

If only he knew.

 

***~Fin~***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and commenting! It makes my day!!! If you like my writing see my profile for info about my original fiction... <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are love!


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